


Mother Tongue

by My_Beating_Hart



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 15:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8807014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Beating_Hart/pseuds/My_Beating_Hart
Summary: Concrit appreciated.





	

Tonight was one of the rare nights that Zevran could be persuaded to stay in bed and fully enjoy his afterglow - mostly because Theron stubbornly refused to let him leave the bed and thwarted every attempt of his to even get up until Zevran begrudgingly admitted defeat.

So, the two elves lay entwined on top of the rumpled sheets, mingled sweat and spend drying gradually between them as they exchanged lazily content kisses. Theron opened his eyes first when they were forced to part for breath, but he stayed close enough for their noses to occasionally bump as they drank in the sight of each other. His normally piercing grey eyes were gentle with love that made Zevran’s chest tighten in response, and it was instinct to lean forwards and lose themselves in another slow, languid kiss.

“I love you.” Theron murmured against Zevran’s lips, breaking the silence that had settled over them for so long in the haze of pleasure.

“You’re just saying that because I’m a good tumble in bed.” Zevran purred teasingly as he rested his forehead against Theron’s and began to stroke down the ranger’s scarred shoulders, keeping him close.

“The best,” Theron agreed, turning his head aside so he could press a kiss to the golden column of Zevran’s neck. “You’ve thoroughly spoilt me.”

“And I would be happy to spoil you further, if we had the right opportunities and several feet of rope. I could wrap myself up like a present for you, _amor_.” He added, only half-serious now.

He felt rather than heard Theron’s responding laugh, a gentle shaking that went through both of their bodies.

“With a bow?” The Dalish elf sprawled on top of him asked with a tilt of his head that made his braids slide onto Zevran’s chest.

“At least two.” The blond answered mock-sombrely as he selected one braid and twirled it gently between his fingers.

“I can guess where one would be.”

It was Zevran’s turn to chuckle, low in his throat.

“That bow would have to be a loose one, naturally.”

“You seem to enjoy the challenge Tingler offers.” Theron pointed out, and their gazes darted to where the unadorned golden ring sat innocently on the bedside table next to a slightly larger silver one.

“True.” Zevran hummed as he kept playing with the errant braid, daydreaming wistfully about Antivan silk ropes combined with the polished metal glitter of bedroom jewelry. His body stirred to make its interest known, but he ignored it for now. “But ordinary rope is different to an enchanted ring, _amor_.”

“I wish I knew what it is you like about rope.”

“Well, for starters, it is flexible and versatile and can be used for _many_ situations in the bedroom. Much like myself.” Zevran flashed a grin.

“Terrible.” Came the judgement from his audience of one, and it was followed by a kiss Zevran could only presume was to shut him up.

“You are the one who asked, _mi amor_.” He pointed out cheerfully when they parted for breath. Theron rolled his eyes, gently reclaimed his braid and then sat up, moving in the process so he wasn’t on top of Zevran anymore.

The blond pouted as his heat source abandoned him, but used the new space to stretch out both for comfort and in the hopes the sight of his exposed body on tantalising display would entice Theron back to bed. Alas, Theron simply left the bed in favour of padding over to pick up his discarded sleeping trousers. Zevran’s groan of protest made the ranger look back in faint concern, his braids swaying over his shoulder blades.

“Where are you going? Staay.” Zevran drawled, stretching again.

Theron relaxed, and shook his head as he swiftly dressed himself.

“Sadly, I have to relieve myself.” He answered as he tied the laces on his trousers. “I won’t be long.” He reassured the pouting Antivan.

“There is a chamberpot here.” Zevran replied, and Theron looked away sheepishly, cheeks flushing a little darker.

“Not with you watching.” He muttered, shifting his weight self-consciously, and Zevran tutted but kept his protests in check as Theron quit the room to visit a more private latrine. For a Dalish who hadn’t set foot inside a building a year ago, Theron was surprisingly reserved about such matters once indoors.

Zevran waited patiently for Theron’s return, although his gaze returned once or twice to the rings left on the bedside table. How tempting it was to put the objects to good use again and savour Theron’s reaction when he walked in...

Sadly, he was prevented from enacting his plan by Theron slipping back into the room and locking the door behind him. This time, the ranger was far easier to tempt back into bed. He moved to be over Zevran again, but Zevran sat up and gently pushed at Theron’s shoulder until he lay back on the bed so Zevran could kneel over him.

“My turn.” The blond purred, capturing Theron’s lips to seal his victory.

“Mmn,” The ranger hummed, shifting where he lay to free his braids so they weren’t pinned underneath him. “Says who?”

Zevan was pleased to see the gleam of a challenge in his lover’s eyes.

“I do.” He answered, reaching for Theron’s wrists. He was too slow, however, and then Theron was attempting to roll him over and reclaim his crown. Suddenly the post-coital bliss had turned to playful, laughing wrestling in a tangle of limbs and the occasional curse - something Zevran was more than happy to do given how when he won (however briefly) Theron had to remove an article of clothing as punishment. Not that he had many on to begin with.

“Getting tired?” The darker elf asked once he’d had Zevran pinned and straddled at his mercy for nearly a full minute, the two grinning widely.

“No, but I cannot best an archer’s strength,” Zevran sighed as he gave up his token struggles in favour of simply admiring and feeling the ranger on top of him. Theron released his grip on the blond’s wrists so he was merely straddling Zevran’s hips. “We are ridiculous. Our dignity left us long ago.” He observed dryly.

“Aye.” Theron chirped his agreement, smile unwavering. “So long as we _look_ dignified to everyone else, I’m not mourning it’s loss.”

“We are still more dignified than Alistair.” Zevran added as he wriggled to sit up; Theron reluctantly knelt so Zevran was free to move backwards and sit against the headboard. Theron followed to quickly sit in his lap, their bodies pressed together.

They stared at each other a moment, Zevran’s hands finding their way into Theron’s braids to massage the base of his skull and back of his neck.

“I really do love you.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” Zevran grinned as he leaned forwards and up to press a kiss to the centre of Theron’s _vallaslin_. Theron smirked, and Zevran couldn’t tell if it was due to his words or his actions.

“ _Mi amor_.” He breathed, resting his forehead against Theron’s.

“ _Ma vhenan_.” Came the gently lilting response, followed by another soft kiss that expressed the depth of their feelings more than either mother tongue could.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Concrit appreciated.


End file.
